Derek is too fast for Stiles to do much but flail, though hiding is the best course of action and he really can't fault the guy for some quick thinking. All the same, he stares in the general direction of where Derek's face has to be with wide eyes, doing his best to stay quiet.
He lets out a huge sigh when Derek finally moves his hand, eyes starting to adjust just enough to see the reflection of light from a crack between the door and the floor shine off of Derek's eyes. The closet is stuffy and warm and probably filled with coats that probably aren't clean, but he does his best not to think of that, just thunking his head back against the wall with a faint laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." Derek is pressed bodily to him and he's doing everything in his power to remind himself that his crush and his hormones have no place in the 1920s, but it's only half working.
He presses on, sighing and closing his eyes for a moment, reaching up to take his cap off and run his hand over his hair. "The fuck is going on, dude?"
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He lets out a huge sigh when Derek finally moves his hand, eyes starting to adjust just enough to see the reflection of light from a crack between the door and the floor shine off of Derek's eyes. The closet is stuffy and warm and probably filled with coats that probably aren't clean, but he does his best not to think of that, just thunking his head back against the wall with a faint laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." Derek is pressed bodily to him and he's doing everything in his power to remind himself that his crush and his hormones have no place in the 1920s, but it's only half working.
He presses on, sighing and closing his eyes for a moment, reaching up to take his cap off and run his hand over his hair. "The fuck is going on, dude?"